


End Where I Begun

by ashavahishta



Series: Casting Lines 'verse [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Fluff, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 15:05:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashavahishta/pseuds/ashavahishta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis takes the kids to visit Harry on tour.</p><p><i>It’s been years - hell, it’s been </i>decades,<i>and Louis still hasn’t found anyone who understands him like Harry does. He still doesn’t laugh as hard with anyone else, there’s never been another person that Louis just wants to tell everything to, wants to share everything with. Harry is his other half, as much a part of him now as a limb, an organ. Louis still gets butterflies when they kiss and he still thinks Harry’s the most beautiful person in the entire world, no matter how much he ages.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	End Where I Begun

Louis’ day begins at 6am.

This is not because his alarm goes off (although it only would have allowed him an extra half an hour) - it’s because there are two very excited three year old girls screeching in their bedroom down the hallway.

He heaves himself out of bed and into the bathroom to use the toilet and splash his face with cold water. It’s summer, and the sun is rising slowly over the backyard, the sky blue. It’s promising to be a beautiful day.

Louis inspects himself briefly in the mirror. He looks tired, his eyes a little dull and his skin pale. He’s got a three day scruff forming on his jaw that he should probably shave off in case his kids’ teachers start thinking he’s a mad hobo. There’s lines around his eyes and mouth that weren’t there a few years ago, but Louis doesn’t really mind. He’s thirty-nine - not exactly ancient, yet.

He quirks an eyebrow at himself in the mirror as if to say ‘could be worse,’ and leaves the bathroom. He throws on a shirt of Harry’s out of habit (not at all because he misses him terribly) and pads down the hall toward his daughters’ bedroom.

Louis peeks around the edge of the doorway, long enough to see two bright-eyed little faces peering back at him. One of them gives a small squeal and Louis hides again, then peeks, then hides. One of the girls laughs.

Finally, he bursts into the room. “Good morning, little princesses.”

From their side-by-side cribs, Leah and Rosie both send him gap-toothed smiles. “Heyyyyyyyy!” Leah shrieks, extremely high-pitched. Louis winces. “Inside voice,” he reminds her sternly, and turns a look on Rosie before she starts up too.

It’s a bit of a fight to get them both out of their cribs, into fresh diapers and out of their pyjamas. Leah starts fussing as Louis is changing Rosie, and then Rosie starts screaming in impatience and hunger as he tries to get Leah dressed. He bears the noise well enough - it’s standard practice at this stage - and finally gets both girls running full-pelt toward the kitchen for breakfast.

Ever since the twins started walking, there’s been no point trying to confine them to high-chairs for eating. Instead Louis hands them a bowl of food each and allows them to eat in front of the television. It’s kind of adorable, watching the girls’ faces go slack with wonder as they shovel handfuls of food into their mouths and watch the colourful figures of their favourite cartoons.

The dogs, Luna and Bear, trail at Louis’ feet as he marches back upstairs to wake six year old Jamie, nine year old Evie and finally his eldest, twelve year old Daniel.

“Nooooo,” Daniel moans piteously, turning over in bed only to bury his face in his pillow.

“C’mon bud, only a couple more days,” Louis says, as brightly as he can manage for someone who’s spent the morning wrestling with toddlers. He hasn’t even had a cup of tea yet. “You’re on holidays on Friday.”

One blue eye peeks out from under the fall of Daniel’s hair. “Then we can play football every day?” he asks hopefully.

Louis smiles. “Yeah, kiddo. Whatever you want,” he leans over the bed for a moment to push his fingers through Daniel’s dark blonde hair. “But today you gotta get up and help me get your brother and sister ready for school, yeah?”

“Hmph,” Daniel grumps, but he throws the blankets off the bed.

With Daniel’s help, Louis somehow manages to get all the kids fed and dressed within the next hour. He rushes through filling lunchboxes while simultaneously trying to settle a fight between the twins over a particularly coveted stuffed dinosaur toy, and by 8:30am it’s time to pile the five of them into the car for school.

With his three eldest dropped off, Louis can breathe a little easier. He turns around at a red light to check on his daughters, who have been surprisingly quiet in their carseats. “Hey, princesses.”

Leah is too busy trying to pull her left sock off to reply, but Rosie waves a hand in his general direction. “Yums?” she asks hopefully.

“You can have yums when we get home,” Louis promises. “What do you think, broccoli?”

“No!”

“What? How about some porridge?”

“No!”

The light changes, and Louis turns his attention back to the road as he continues to tease his daughters. “Mm, pineapple?”

“No no no!”

“Alright,” Louis acquiesces finally as he pulls into the driveway. “Let’s make some toast and jam instead then.”

This is greeted by a general cheer and Louis smiles to himself as he begins to unstrap Leah from her carseat.

The girls are happy to amuse themselves with numerous toys in the playroom while Louis cleans up some of the disaster left in the kitchen from breakfast. He leaves the worst of it for the cleaning lady, because even after all these years Louis is still not a domestic god like Harry is.

The thought leaves a brief pang in his chest and Louis brings out his phone to check the secondary clock. It’s 7am in Philadelphia. He pockets the phone.

After lunch, the sun is high in the sky so Louis ushers his girls outside with the dogs trailing them. He sets up ‘bowling’ which basically means putting up some empty cereal boxes and allowing the girls to throw a small ball to try and knock them down.

“Alright bubs, your turn,” Louis crouches beside Leah, who has her tiny hands wrapped around the bright red ball. Her eyes are narrowed in concentration, lips pouted. “C’mon, 1, 2, 3!”

Leah rears back and throws the ball as hard as she can. It soars directly over the cereal boxes and rolls off into the hedge, with Bear the labrador barking delightedly after it.

“No!” Leah yells, stamping her foot into the grass and pouting harder.

Louis laughs. “It’s alright, it’s alright.” He retrieves the ball, and this time helps Leah to roll it carefully toward the boxes. It knocks gently into one, making it wobble and finally fall over.

Leah immediately starts squealing in delight, jumping all over Louis and wriggling around in her excitement. Louis hugs her tightly. “Yes!” he shouts. “That’s my girl, good girl, good job.”

Rosie is amusing herself by digging around in the grass looking for bugs and, later, wrestling around with the dogs. Louis sits back and watches his girls play. He feels content, sitting in the sunlight with the warm grass beneath him, his babies safe and happy.

The only thing missing is Harry.

Louis pulls his phone from his pocket and double checks the time - 8:30am in Philly now - before opening a new message. He snaps a picture of the girls - Leah with her blonde hair gleaming in the sun, her hands clasped again around the ball, and Rosie rolling in the grass with Bear prancing merrily around her.

_good morning, my love._

Harry’s answering picture is himself in a mirror, with somebody behind him sticking their hands in his hair. It must be an interview day, then.

Harry looks tired and pale but his smile is soft and his eyes are warm. _good afternoon,_ his message reads. _looks warm there. Leah’s bowling getting any better?_

Louis smiles. _No,_ he writes. _I think she got your sporting genes to be honest,_

_you know that’s not biologically possible._

_ooh, someone’s swallowed a dictionary this morning,_ Louis teases.

“Rosie, get that out of your mouth!” he yells. Rosie makes a face at him and reluctantly puts down the flower (complete with dirt and roots) she was trying to munch on. He laughs to himself and returns his attention to his phone.

 _wish I was swallowing something else,_ Harry’s text reads. He’s attached a picture of himself making an exaggerated ‘come-hither’ face, pink lips pouted and eyes wide.

Louis’ not ashamed to admit that it causes a tug of arousal low in his belly. Harry’s been away for a month and at this point the mere mention of a blowjob is enough to get Louis hot.

Skype sex only goes so far, after all.

_harry tomlinson, you are a fucking tease._

_you know it ;)_ Harry returns. _babe I have a radio thing in a minute, we’ll talk this afternoon yeah? Skype day?_

Louis represses a sigh at how brief the conversation has been. _yeah_ he agrees. _skype day. 2pm your time, we’ll be ready._

_alright. give everyone a cuddle for me and tell leah I can’t wait to bowl with her soon! love you xxxxxx_

_I love you too :)_

Louis pockets his phone, tells himself not to feel the ache of missing him. It’s only been a month. Louis is fine.

When they were younger, a few days’ separation was almost unthinkable. The five of them were attached at the hip 24/7 thanks to the band. Louis and Harry got so used to being with each other on an almost constant basis, built up a dependence on one another's’ presence.

Over time they’ve had to adjust to these long stretches of time apart. Harry tours with each new album, and promo work drags him away too. It’s difficult, Louis can’t deny that. Running around after five children on his own is an absolutely massive task. His days are constantly filled; a never-ending list of meals and clean-ups, homework, sports, playtime, shopping, baths and bedtimes. Even with the small army of babysitters and cleaning staff that he’s lucky enough to afford, he can never seem to stop moving.

Even in moments like this, watching the girls run around the yard, Louis is thinking of how much he has left to do today. The others will need to be picked up from school soon. Daniel has football practice tonight, and Evie is having a friend over. Jamie still needs to finish his science project. There’s dinner somewhere in there too, then Skyping with Harry at seven before he tries to wrestle all the kids into bed.

He chose this. _They_ chose this, years ago when they discussed how much they wanted a big family. They agreed, too, on Harry pursuing his solo career while he had the chance - even if it meant he had to leave Louis and the kids at home like this every few months.

It drains him, Louis knows. As much as Harry still adores performing (and he was _born_ to sing), he desperately wishes he could have the career without having to leave his family behind. There’s a guiltiness to Harry’s tone every time he explains his new schedule, a regret every time he announces how long he has to be away. And Louis - Louis doesn’t resent him for it. He can’t, not when he sees how happy it makes Harry to perform. Not when he feels that swell of pride every time he hears Harry’s voice soaring on a new song.

Harry only has to leave for a few months of the year. For the rest, he has all the time in the world to dote on the kids (and Louis) as much as he likes.

It’s just days like these - a month since Harry left and another until he returns - that Louis feels the distance so keenly.

 

“Daddy?”

Louis startles and looks up to find Leah eyeing him curiously, her small mouth turned into a frown.

“Yes, monster?”

“Papa home?”

Louis swallows down a sigh. The twins haven’t really grasped the concept of time yet. To them, every day is the day Harry might be coming home.

“Not today, Lee. We’ll see him on the computer tonight, okay?”

Leah smiles and tucks a daisy into Louis’ hair. “Kay,” she murmurs. It’s time for their nap and Louis can tell how tired she is, heavy lids drooping over soft blue eyes. “Daddy pretty.”

Louis smiles. “Thank-you. Hey Rosie, you wanna be pretty too?”

Rosie looks up from where she was apparently digging in the ground with a stick. She has dirt smeared over her hands and clothes, and grass in her hair. “No,” she decides firmly.

Louis laughs and lets Leah put another flower in his hair. “Alright love, Lee and I will be pretty together then.”

 

At seven that night, with the kids fed and (most of) the homework done, Louis ushers everybody into the living room and sets up his laptop. The kids crowd onto the couch; Louis in the centre with Rosie perched on his lap, Jamie to his right and Evie beside him, with Daniel squashed into his left side and Leah sprawled atop her eldest brother.

Harry appears on the screen a moment later. He’s in his hotel room, probably just finished lunch, sitting on a plush-looking cream couch. His hair is styled, curls soft over his forehead, and he’s dressed in his usual attire of dark-wash jeans and a deep v-neck tee which dips to show golden skin, dark tattoos and several gleaming necklaces.

Louis swallows. He looks good.

Harry always looks so fucking good.

There’s a half-second where Louis and Harry lock eyes through the camera, and Louis can read the “Hi, baby,” clear as day before Harry’s attention turns to his children.

“Hi!” He yells, hands thrown up in childish excitement.

The kids yell back, Rosie bouncing in Louis’ lap as she claps her hands together happily. They all look forward to Skype Day so much - the only day of the week where they get Harry for more than a text or phone call.

“Wow, I swear you guys just double in size every week,” Harry beams, his eyes roving happily over each of his children. His cheeks are dimpled with how wide his smile is, his eyes bright. There’s maybe nothing more joyous in the world than Harry with his family. Louis’ chest aches. “How are you all?”

From there, conversation runs loud and chaotic, the kids tripping over themselves to talk to Harry first. Louis sits back and listens, knowing that he’ll have an extra half hour alone with Harry at the end.

Leah and Rosie lisp and stumble their way through a description of their day outside in the garden while Harry nods along, helping with their words every so often. Jamie shows Harry his new Star Wars picture book, babbling happily about Chewbacca until Harry starts doing a horrific roaring noise (Louis supposes it’s supposed to be an impression, but it sounds like a dying cat to him) and the kids collapse in laughter. Evie wants to have a long and serious discussion about her friends. Finally, Daniel gets his time to tell Harry about his latest XBox victories and his day at school.

By that point, the twins are starting to lag. “Sorry, Dan,” Louis interrupts softly. “Let the girls say goodnight to Papa, yeah? I’m gonna put them to bed and then you can keep talking.”

Leah crawls down from Daniel’s lap to stand in front of the laptop, clutching her favourite frog toy in her arms. “Goodnight, Papa,” she murmurs, waving a small hand in front of the screen.

Rosie is nearly asleep in Louis’ arms, her head tucked into his shoulder and her thumb in her mouth.

“Sweetie, can you say goodnight to Papa?” he asks, rubbing her back gently. Rosie raises her head long enough to say, “G’night Papa,” around her thumb before dropping it back onto Louis’ shoulder.

Louis watches Harry’s eyes soften impossibly. “Goodnight, baby girls. I love you.”

Louis stands, carefully adjusting Rosie against his shoulder before taking Leah’s hand and leading them upstairs.

Once he’s got the girls in bed, Louis returns to the living room to send Daniel, Evie and Jamie on their way too. “Half an hour of reading and then lights out,” he reminds Evie. Daniel is allowed another hour and a half for video games in his room before Louis will come to say goodnight.

The kids say their goodnights to Harry and trudge toward the stairs, leaving Louis alone with his husband. Finally.

Harry’s lips curl into a soft smile as he watches Louis slump back against the couch cushions. “Hi there. Tired?”

“No more than usual,” Louis replies dryly. “I am so, so ready for school to be over.”

“And as soon as it ends you’ll want it back because you’ll have them all at home driving you nuts,” Harry reminds him with a glint in his eye.

Louis waves a dismissive hand. “Honey, that’s what babysitters are for. I’ll be lounging by the pool all week while they drive someone else nuts.”

They both know he won’t. Harry laughs anyway.

For half an hour, Louis gets to bask in Harry’s company again. Their conversation is easy and familiar; how Harry’s interview had gone, the new melody he wants to try for one of his songs, gossip about Louis’ sisters. It doesn’t matter what they’re saying, particularly; Louis is more interested in just being with Harry for this small block of time. He uses the opportunity to watch Harry: the glow in his eyes when they discuss his music, the way he touches his mouth when he talks (always distracting), the achingly familiar swoop of his large hands through his curls, the way his necklaces sit over his collarbones and the rumble of his warm voice.

And god, Louis misses him.

“Lou? Y’alright?”

He must have zoned out. Louis focuses, forces a smile. “Yeah, love. Sorry. Just -“

“Miss me?” Harry guesses, too good at reading him. “Me too.”

He sighs, running his hand through his hair again. “I shouldn’t have agreed to do this tour,” he says for the fifth time since he left. “It’s too long, I shouldn’t have left you there alone all this time, I shouldn’t -“

“Haz, we agreed to this,” Louis argues, his voice flat. He knows he should be chirpy about it, reassure Harry that everything is perfect so Harry can stop berating himself. But he misses him too much to sugarcoat it. “Your fans want to see you, the album is great and it deserves to sell. S’not that long before you’re back.”

Harry nods, his hands clasped between his knees. “I know,” he looks up at Louis with dark, intense eyes. “I just keep worrying that I’m missing out. Missing _them._ They change so much, every week. I swear Evie’s half a head taller since I left.”

Louis snorts softly. “Yeah, you’re missing all the fun parts too. Missing the early mornings and the foodfights, the screaming, the mess, the fights and the dirt and the fucking toys _everywhere_ , jesus why do we buy them so much stuff -“

“I miss that stuff too,” Harry argues earnestly. “I do, I wish I could help you with all that crap.”

“Yeah, so do I.” Louis’ voice is harder than he means it to be and Harry’s expression darkens in hurt.

“Lou -“

“Sorry,” Louis interjects quickly. He’s not in the mood to argue about it, not now. He doesn’t want to pick a fight just because he’s a bit run-down. He wants to make the best of the time has with Harry. “I don’t mean it, babe, I just -“

“Miss you,” Harry finishes. He sighs. “I know.”

His eyes are flickering to his phone and Louis pinches himself to keep in a sigh. “You need to go, don’t you.”

Guiltily, Harry’s gaze returns to him. “I have soundcheck in ten minutes.”

Louis nods, mustering a smile. “Alright, rockstar. Go on then. Dedicate a song to me.”

“I will.” Harry kisses his fingers and presses them to the screen. “I love you so much.”

Louis repeats the gesture, wishing desperately that he could feel the warmth of Harry’s fingertips against his own. “I love you too. Bye, darling.”

Harry signs off, and Louis allows himself five minutes to fight off the sadness that’s clawing his way up his throat. Then he shuts his laptop, and goes upstairs to make sure his kids are safely in bed.

As he’s crawling into bed that night, Louis’ phone buzzes with a new text from Harry. _All my songs are dedicated to you. xx._

Louis goes to sleep missing his husband, and wakes up with a plan in his head as though he made the decision in his sleep.

They’re going to America.

 

It’s the perfect timing for it; the kids are off school for an entire week. It’s mid-tour for Harry, just when the excitement is starting to wear off and the homesickness is setting in. As for Louis - Louis just wants to kiss his boy.

That day when the kids are at school, Louis starts making phonecalls. First he has to check with the agency and make sure his favourite nanny, Jasmin, is available (she is), then it’s flights, security, new rooms at the hotel Harry has booked in New York. The most important part is speaking to Harry’s manager, Chris. Chris will be the poor man tasked with rescheduling some of Harry’s commitments in the following week.

Surprisingly, Louis doesn’t meet much resistance.

“I can’t cancel the TV stuff but he can definitely do the radio things by phone,” Chris reassures him. “Other than that it’s a pretty bare week anyway. He should have lots of time for you.”

“Thank you,” Louis says softly.

“No, thank you,” Chris counters. “He needs this, trust me. You misses you all so much.”

Louis makes one more call to make sure the dogs will be taken care of, and he’s nearly ready to go.

 

Two days and one truly horrific flight later; Louis, Jasmin and the kids are officially on American soil. It’s nearly midnight when they land, late enough to get through the airport without paps finding them, thank god.

Louis piles into one car with the twins and Jamie, with Jasmin taking Evie and Daniel separately. They’re all so, so tired. Leah has been crying ever since they landed and Louis has her tucked into his chest, trying desperately to soothe her with kisses pressed into her hair. Rosie, it seems, is actually too exhausted to fuss. She slumps into her carseat like a sad little ragdoll, hair falling over her eyes.

Jamie burrows into Louis’ side. He’s sweet and sleepy in Buzz Lightyear pyjamas with an Iron Man action figure clutched in his fingers. “Daddy, I want to go to bed.” His voice is slurred, big green eyes blinking pleadingly up at Louis.

“I know baby,” Louis continues rubbing Leah’s back; he doesn’t have a hand free to cuddle Jamie too. “We just gotta get to the hotel and you can sleep as much as you want, okay?”

The car starts, and Louis slumps back against the seat. He didn’t sleep on the flight, of course - he was too busy trying to talk the kids into doing so. There’s an exhaustion headache pounding at his temples, and his back aches from the plane seat. Underneath all that, he’s excited. He’s so close to seeing Harry again.

It’s been rough trying to keep it from him, but they’ve managed, and Louis can’t wait to surprise him.

They stumble into the hotel and into the elevator, Leah still burrowed in Louis’ arms and Jamie tucked against his side. Rosie is asleep against Jasmin’s shoulder. Chris had managed to wrangle rooms right next to where Harry’s staying, so Jasmin will be there with the kids while Louis moves into Harry’s room for the week. He helps Jasmin get each of the kids in bed - it’s an easy feat because they’re all practically asleep anyway.

Then, finally, finally, Louis finds himself at Harry’s door with a spare keycard in one hand and his suitcase in the other.

 

Louis slips through the door as quietly as he can and sets down his bag. It’s dark and silent save for the soft huffs of Harry’s breath in sleep. The sound is so familiar that Louis can’t help a smile as he toes his shoes off. He picks his way carefully across the room, stumbling a bit on what is probably Harry’s shoes.

He crouches beside the bed and, knowing Harry has slept through worse, flips the bedside lamp on. Harry is flat on his belly, blankets tangled around his waist and leaving his back bare. His face is soft and peaceful, his hair curling along the nape of his neck and his ears. Louis’ heart starts thudding just at the sight of him. God, it’s been so long.

“Harry,” he whispers. He reaches out to slide his fingertips into Harry’s pretty curls. “Hazzababe, hey, wake up.”

Harry’s brow furrows and his eyelashes flutter briefly before his eyes finally open. Dull grey-green focuses on Louis, then register his presence. For a long moment Harry just stares, uncomprehending. Then his mouth opens on a massive gasp and he sits up suddenly, eyes roving over Louis’ face. “Lou -?! What - what are you _doing_ here?”

His voice is deep and rumbling. Heat shivers down Louis’ spine. He _loves_ Harry’s morning voice. He grins widely. “Surprise.”

“Oh my god, you - come _here,_ ,” and then Harry’s hand is cupped around the back of Louis’ neck, hauling him up to sprawl on top of him. Louis laughs and presses their bodies together everywhere he can; legs tangling, stomachs and chests against each other. He holds Harry’s smiling face in his hands and leans in to kiss him.

And christ, it feels like coming home. Harry’s big hands slip into Louis’ hair and his mouth opens immediately to Louis’ tongue. He tastes sleepy and warm, and Louis deepens the kiss quickly. He rubs his thumbs over Harry’s cheeks, tongue slipping into his mouth. He feels like his whole body just lights up, every part of him sparking happily at Harry’s touch. Harry’s hands are needy in Louis’ hair, then running restlessly up and down his back.

Finally, Louis pulls away to get a good look at his husband. Harry looks well-kissed and dazed, his eyes half lidded and mouth parted. He’s naked, naturally - bare skin and dark tattoos all spread out and just waiting for Louis to lick.

“Hi,” Louis chirps, settling himself more fully on top of Harry.

Harry’s hands come to rest on his waist. His eyes are still roving Louis’ face hungrily. “What are you _doing_ here?”

“I missed you,” Louis says simply. He ducks to press kisses to Harry’s cheeks, the corner of his mouth, the spot under his jaw. “Kids missed you. They’re off school for a week, I couldn’t think of a reason to keep them away from their dad any longer.”

“You brought the kids?” Harry’s eyes widen and so does his smile.

Louis rolls his eyes. “No, I left them at home to fend for themselves. Of course I brought the kids. I spoke to Chris, too, and he’s cleared your schedule this week so you can actually spend some time with us.”

At this, Harry pulls him down for another kiss. Louis hums happily against his mouth, enjoying the way Harry’s hands slip under his shirt to touch his back.

“Has my birthday come early?” Harry asks when they part.

“Consider it an early anniversary present,” Louis smiles fondly down at him. “And I fully expect something equally amazing in return.”

“I better start booking some flights.” Harry agrees seriously.

“Mm,” Louis shifts against him and grins when Harry’s eyes flutter. He can feel him hardening against Louis’ thigh. “Now, would you mind terribly tearing all my clothes off?”

Harry’s smile turns predatory. “I’d love to.”

There’s a brief fumble as they strip Louis of his clothes, then laughter as they realise they have no lube and Louis has to go digging in his bag. Harry lounges against the sheets as he waits, hand stroking lazily over his cock and eyes hot on Louis’ back.

“Fuck,” Louis says eloquently when he returns to the bed, lube clutched triumphantly in his hand. “You’re like porn.”

Harry arches a cocky eyebrow and flexes his abs, making his tattoos ripple over his skin. Louis’ mouth goes dry.

He’d love nothing more than to spend a few hours licking every inch of Harry’s body, but Louis hasn’t been fucked in over a month and he’s quite honestly gagging for it. He shuffles up the bed to straddle Harry’s hips, and bends down to kiss him hungrily.

Harry’s hands stroke down from Louis’ shoulders, following the curve of his spine to grab at his arse. Louis jolts, letting out a needy moan and Harry’s fingers dig in harder.

“Gonna fuck me,” Louis breathes. He uncaps the lube and smears a little over his fingers, then reaches behind himself to nudge at his hole.

The first push has him gasping and clenching needily around his own finger. It’s been so long since he’s done this, and Louis had almost forgotten how good it feels to have something inside him. He’s a bit rough with himself then, desperate.

Harry’s eyes follow the movement of his arm and his hand is calming on Louis’ thigh. “Hey, don’t hurt yourself.”

“But I want -“

“Shh,” Harry fits a hand to the back of his neck and tugs him down into a slow kiss, their lips moving against each other until Louis’ breathing calms. When Harry eases him back, it’s onto his own finger and Louis sighs, pressing down into it. He sits back and wraps his hand around his cock, giving himself a few lazy tugs.

Harry adds a second finger and then a third and Louis can feel himself opening around him, his body adjusting to that familiar thickness. Unable to help himself, he starts moaning the moment Harry finds his prostate. Harry slips the fingers of his other hand into his mouth and Louis sucks on them gratefully, stifling his own noises.

He can feel Harry watching him, can feel his eyes on the lines of his body as he rides Harry’s fingers. He’s not as fit as he once was, he knows. There’s a thickness to his waist that probably wasn’t there a few years ago, and he was never able to commit to Harry’s beloved ‘healthy living’ attitude. But there’s nothing but appreciation in Harry’s expression as he looks at him. “Gorgeous,” Harry murmurs, his eyes lingering on the moon and star tattoo that covers most of Louis’ side. “You’re so gorgeous, Louis.”

And this is the thing that makes them so special, Louis thinks.

They never get over it.

It’s been years - hell, it’s been _decades_ , and Louis still hasn’t found anyone who understands him like Harry does. He still doesn’t laugh as hard with anyone else, there’s never been another person that Louis just wants to tell everything to, wants to share everything with. Harry is his other half, as much a part of him now as a limb, an organ. Louis still gets butterflies when they kiss and he still thinks Harry’s the most beautiful person in the entire world, no matter how much he ages.

And it’s tough sometimes, yeah. Their marriage takes work - so does raising their children. But Louis kind of likes that; perfection bores him and most of the time any fighting just reminds him how important Harry really is to him.

They’ve never lost that spark, that rush of giddy exhilaration that first ran through him the moment he saw Harry in a bathroom back in 2010. They’ve never lost the _connection_ , the bond that makes them near-telepathic with one another.

It’s kind of amazing, actually. Like one soul in two bodies, Harry had said once.

 

Harry removes his fingers and twists his hips suddenly, sending Louis sprawling onto his back. He laughs softly and spreads his legs, reaches out for Harry. “C’mon,” he demands, hands needy on Harry’s shoulders.

“Alright, alright,” Harry mutters, his hand swift on his own cock as he slicks himself up. He positions himself between Louis’ legs and starts pressing into him, slow but steady.

Louis finds himself holding his breath as Harry fills him, the familiar ache of it quickly giving way to a slow-burning pleasure. When Harry bottoms out, Louis’ lips part and a small moan escapes him. God, he feels good. Stretched and full, _finally_.

Harry lowers himself onto his elbows on either side of Louis’ shoulders and kisses him, lazy and deep. His cock shifts gently inside Louis with the movement and Louis digs his fingers into Harry’s back, kisses him back. Harry kisses him for so long that Louis starts to get impatient, rolling his own hips down to try and get Harry to move.

Harry pulls back with a smile, his lips wet. He finally sits back and starts thrusting, filling Louis over and over in a steady perfect rhythm that has Louis’ breath hitching. “Yeah, fuck. Yeah,” he whispers. He starts moving his hips in time with Harry’s, lets his fingers scratch red lines up and down Harry’s back. He can’t look away from Harry’s face. Their eyes are locked as Harry moves in him, and Louis finds himself a little overwhelmed at the feeling of - of _wholeness_ that’s coming over him.

“Harry,” he whispers desperately, hoping to convey some of the desperate emotion that’s bubbling up in his chest.

“I know,” Harry answers immediately, his eyes clear green and so soft in the dim lighting. “I know babe, I know. It’s okay.”

Louis makes a quiet noise and cranes up to capture Harry’s mouth again, arms moving to wrap around his neck. Harry is forced down and his belly is immediately presses over Louis’ hard cock, trapping it between their bodies. Louis gasps and bucks into it, smearing precome over Harry’s abs.

Harry’s thrusts speed up, hitting him at just the right angle to nudge his prostate every time. Louis has to pull away from their kiss to whine quietly. They’ve worked up a sweat; Harry’s curls are hanging damply over his eyes and they’re panting in the hot space between their mouths.

“Close,” Louis manages, the pressure of Harry’s big cock on his prostate making his belly tighten as he rockets toward orgasm. “Haz, babe -”

Harry goes even harder and Louis arches, coming with a soft cry between their bodies. He feels himself squeezing down on Harry’s cock and that just makes him come harder as Harry fucks him through it. Harry pounds into him, burying his face in his neck and then sinking his teeth in hard when he comes. He’s groaning wordlessly, teeth biting deep into Louis’ skin as he fills him.

Harry collapses, face still tucked into Louis’ neck. He’s still panting wetly against the skin and his back is sweaty and flushed under Louis’ hand. He strokes Harry’s back gently, buries the other hand into his curls.

They’re plastered together by sweat and come, and Harry’s body is too big to be pressing him into the bed like this for long. But Louis basks in it for a bit, glows with the feeling of being close to Harry again after a month apart. Harry mouths over the bite he left on Louis’ neck, which is already aching sweetly. His fingertips are tracing the tattoos on Louis’ side, following the shape of the moon and stars which represent himself and their children.

He doesn’t need to voice it, really, but Louis murmurs the words into Harry’s hair anyway. “Love you. So much.”

“Mmm, I love you too.” Harry kisses his neck softly. Then he finally extricates himself from their tangle and uses Louis’ discarded shirt to clean them up slightly. He sprawls on his back and pulls Louis close, arms wrapping tight around his body. Louis cuddles in immediately, his body fitting into the contours of Harry’s the way it always has.

“‘M’so glad you’re here,” Harry says in a voice that’s beginning to slur with tiredness. He dots a couple of affectionate kisses over Louis’ cheeks, then reaches over him to turn out the light. “Let’s get some sleep, yeah? We’ve got monsters to deal with tomorrow.”

Louis snorts and tucks his head in under Harry’s chin. “No, _you’ve_ got monsters to deal with tomorrow. I officially rescind my parenting duties, as of now. I am here for sex, cuddling and watching my rockstar husband in concert. None of this parenting bullshit.”

“Mm-hmm,” Harry hums, half-asleep. “Okay Lou, whatever you want.” He kisses Louis’ hair clumsily and his breaths even out a moment later.

“Damn right.” Louis closes his eyes.

 

 

The week passes too quickly for Louis’ liking.

Harry has three concerts and two television appearances scheduled across the seven days. Every other moment he has to spare, he’s with his family.

The kids are so happy; basking in Harry’s presence the same way that Louis is. It’s so clear just how much they adore him; they’re always wanting to snuggle up into Harry’s arms or tell him some new story that he’s missed. Harry seems intent on soaking up every part of it.

The first morning is spent at the hotel. Louis sleeps clear through breakfast and wakes up to a text from Harry telling him to come next door when he’s ready. In the other suite, Louis finds his husband and his children all cuddled up in the same massive bed. Harry is at the centre, of course, with one of the twins tucked under each arm, Jamie on the pillow to his left, sucking his thumb, Evie at his feet, trying to tickle him at every opportunity. Daniel sits on the corner of the bed like he’s trying to tell himself that he’s too old for this.

Harry’s hands are moving expressively as he talks, spinning a story about last week’s concerts. Leah’s eyes are bright and wide as she watches his every move. Rosie is more interested in the picture book that she clearly dragged to bed with her and the bottle of juice tucked under her arm.

Louis leans against the door and watches them for a bit, still sleepy and warm from bed. He loves to see them all together like this; the way Harry’s big body seems to draw them all into a warm little bubble, how they all look at him like he’s a superhero. Even Daniel, who is at the age where he tries to pretend he’s too cool for snuggling with his siblings in the morning, is listening to Harry’s story. His big brother instincts kick in every and now and then; Louis watches with a swell of pride as Daniel reaches to untangle Rosie from her blanket or open Leah’s juice bottle for her. He’s a good kid. They’re all good kids.

“Is this a private party or can anyone join in?” he finally asks, softly.

Their little heads snap up and Leah shrieks happily, bouncing in place. Harry’s face lights up. “Hi babe.”

“Good morning,” Louis finds the only free space on the bed (a little gap between Jamie and Evie) and plonks himself down. He reaches out to ruffle Jamie’s curls and then Evie’s, and crosses his eyes at Rosie until she giggles delightedly. “Where’s Jasmin?” he asks Harry, reaching over Rosie to touch his hand.

“I said she should go get breakfast while everything was under control,” Harry replies. He flips his hand over to take Louis’ and intertwine their fingers. “I’m free until about 4 for soundcheck, I was thinking breakfast and then Central Park?”

“Can we have pancakes?” Evie interrupts.

“I want pancakes!” Jamie adds immediately. “With chocolate chips?”

They both turn big green eyes on Louis.

“Yums?” Leah perks up from under Harry’s right arm. He laughs and pulls her closer to press a kiss to her hair. “You’re holding yums right now, baby.”

She is, in fact, clutching an oat bar in one sticky hand. She ignores this to turn to Louis and ask, “Yums? Gogogogogo Da, yums?”

“Yes, yums and then gogo,” Louis agrees. “And pancakes are fine, but _only_ today.” A general cheer goes up from the bed and Louis meets Harry’s eyes and mouths _and zoo?_ , catching Harry’s nod.

“And if you don’t make a giant mess at breakfast, we might go somewhere special at Central Park…” he teases.

 

They have breakfast in the hotel restaurant, then meet up with Jasmin and get everyone ready to venture out to Central Park. It’s warm and bright out, the park crowded with tourists.

They set off walking, Louis pushing Leah and Rosie’s double stroller, Jamie holding Harry’s hand and Daniel and Evie running ahead, trying to race each other from tree to tree. Jasmin hangs back and walks with Harry’s security, an enormous but very kind man called Richard.

(Louis used to feel like a dick, taking an entourage out with them when they wanted to spend time with their children. Surely they could be a normal family for once? Surely they didn’t need the nanny, the bodyguard just to go for a walk in the park? But fans always found them, and Louis felt terribly uneasy watching strangers coo over his children as though they knew them. One too many incidents of fans trying to hug the kids, or distracting Louis from watching them while he was signing autographs, had been enough. He’d rather look like a dick than spend the entire outing worrying about his childrens’ safety.)

They stop for lunch, and Jasmin takes over with the twins so that Harry and Louis can play football with the others in the grass. Richard has to join in to make the teams even, and they play Louis, Evie andRichard against Harry, Jamie and Daniel. Louis and Evie are both good, Daniel decent and Harry terrible, so it all evens out pretty well.

“Get him, Evie!” Louis yells as Evie easily intercepts her father and steals the ball straight out from Harry’s big clown feet.

Evie passes to him and Louis immediately slots the ball into the ‘goal’ - his and Harry’s jackets set five feet apart on the grass. Harry flops to the ground on his back and Jamie jumps on his stomach, making Harry groan in pain.

“Papa you suck!” Jamie yells. He digs small hands into Harry’s shirt and starts to tickle him, making Harry curl in on himself and burst into manic laughter. Daniel joins in and the three of them roll in the grass, laughing and getting dirt everywhere.

Evie stands over them with her hands on her hips, looking exceedingly proud of herself. “Good game, Dad,” she says with a smug smile. Louis laughs and slaps her hand in a high-five, then moves to save Harry from their sons.

“Alright, alright,” he says lightly, nudging Jamie with his foot until he emerges, breathless, from under Harry’s armpit.

“Papa shoved grass down my shirt!” Jamie complains. He has dirt in his hair.

“That was me,” Daniel replies cheerily, proceeding to tackle his brother into the dirt. Evie joins the fray a moment later and they roll away, laughing. Louis grins down at Harry.

He’s flushed with laughter and there’s dirt smeared all over his cheeks, grass in his hair. His long limbs are sprawled out, boneless, his smile glinting in the sun.

“You’re such a flop,” Louis says, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re an embarrassment to this family, Styles.”

Harry continues to grin up at him, dimples pushing deep into his cheeks. Ugh, he’s still so fucking lovely.

“I haven’t been a Styles in fifteen years, _Tomlinson_ ,” he says pointedly. He waves his hand languidly in the air. “You put a ring on it, remember?”

“Yeah, lucky me,” Louis says dryly, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Lucky you,” Harry repeats.

He kicks out and catches Louis around the ankle so Louis goes sprawling, landing almost directly on top of him with an outraged splutter. He struggles to push himself off and away but Harry’s stupid big arms are locked around his waist and Louis groans.

“You’re an oaf!” he yells, wriggling. Distantly, he can hear the kids laughing at them.

Harry lets him go, but only long enough to grab a handful of dirt and grass and rub it into Louis’ artfully messy hair. Louis squawks and tries again to get up, but this time Harry flips him onto his back and looms over him, grinning.

“Admit you’re lucky you married me,” he demands, hands hovering threateningly over another clump of dirt.

Louis purses his lips. “You are the bane of my existence.”

Harry tickles him, using his knowledge of Louis’ body to his shameless advantage. Louis shrieks and arches beneath him, trying to squirm away from Harry’s hands.

“Admit it!”

“Alright!” Louis yells, gasping and teary-eyed with laughter. “I’m lucky I married you, you big clumsy stupid idiot.”

Harry’s smirk is so smug. Louis wants to kiss him for the rest of his life.

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

“Shut up.”

Louis wraps his hand around the back of Harry’s neck and tugs him down into a kiss. He can feel Harry smiling into it. They lay there for a moment, wrapped together and kissing softly.

Then a clump of dirt smacks into Harry’s back. They break apart and turn to find Daniel smirking at them, eyes glinting with mischief.

“You didn’t,” Louis says, eyes narrowing.

Daniel’s grin widens. “Maybe I did.”

Harry rolls off him with a roar and runs after Daniel with Louis following close behind, ready to tackle their son into the grass.

 

Later, they wander Central Park zoo together. Leah and Rosie beg to be let out of the stroller so Harry and Louis take one small hand each as they walk between the animals. Leah and Rosie are wide-eyed and quiet, compared to Evie who has been babbling excitedly about each animal they pass.

“Da, up up?” Leah asks, little hands grasping the air above Louis. He nods and picks her up, holding her tight under his arm. “See the otters?” he murmurs, pointing out the little furred creatures on the riverbed below them. “Look, they’re hugging.”

The otters are in fact, cuddling, all bundled up in a little pile of fur. It’s adorable.

“Ohh,” Leah coos, her hand pushing into Louis’ hair. “Happy.”

“They make you happy?”

Leah nods, then breaks into a toothy grin and bounces in Louis’ grip. “Happy!”

Louis laughs. “They make me happy too.”

He looks over at Harry, who has Rosie in her stroller and Jamie sitting on his shoulders with his hands twisted into Harry’s curls. Harry smiles over at him and Louis repeats, “Really happy,” with an answering smile in Harry’s direction.

 

The next couple of days pass quickly. Harry has television interviews to tape, so Louis and Jasmin take the kids sightseeing during the day and meet up with Harry in the evenings. They get papped a couple of times, and Louis has a stare-down with some fans who follow them all the way through Times Square. Aside from that, it’s a great holiday. The kids are enjoying themselves and Louis and Harry even manage a couple of quiet nights alone in the midst of it all.

Tonight is one of those nights; they left the kids with Jasmin and some DVDs, and went out to dinner together downtown. Now, they’re back in Harry’s room with dessert on Louis’ lap, ready to watch Harry’s Letterman interview. He’s not on until halfway through the show so Louis concentrates on stealing as much of the brownie as possible, he and Harry’s spoons battling each other on the plate. Eventually there’s nothing but a smear of ganache left on the plate and Louis sighs in satisfaction as he places it on the table beside him. He settles closer to Harry’s side, the two of them both leaning back against the headboard. Harry’s arm falls over his shoulder and tugs him in, but there’s something tense about the way he’s holding himself.

Louis frowns. “Baby, you need to lie down.”

“I’m fine,” Harry says, but he shifts and winces immediately.

“You are not, I _knew_ those seats at the restaurant wouldn’t be good for you and you’ve been carrying the kids around all week. Did you do any of your stretches today?”

“A couple,” Harry mumbles. He sighs, his head tilting back to thump gently against the wall. “Haven’t really helped yet.”

“So you need to lie down, c’mon. Do you have a heat pack in your bag?”

“No, it’s not that bad,” Harry protests. He shrugs. “I just wanted to be able to cuddle you properly while you’re here.”

Louis smiles. “We’ve got lots of time for cuddling, Haz. Just not when you’re hurting, yeah? Please lie down.”

Harry finally agrees, although he’s still pouting a bit. He drops forward to lie on his stomach, his back straightening out, and gives a low, pained moan as he does so. Louis winces in sympathy and drops his hand to rub slow, soothing circles into the sore spot at the base of Harry’s spine.

He put his back out a couple of years ago; twisting in the water to pluck Evie out of the way of an incoming wave while they were on holiday in Spain. The movement caused a slipped disc in his lower spine and Harry’s never fully recovered from it, despite many months of physiotherapy. These days it’s better than it’s ever been, but it still aches after he’s spent a lot of time sitting or carrying things he shouldn’t be.

It sucks, and it’s the kind of injury that a father in his mid-thirties shouldn’t be dealing with, but that’s the way it’s turned out. The problem comes when Harry is too stubborn to admit that he’s hurting. Louis often has to bully him into taking painkillers or, like tonight, lying down when he’s obviously in pain.

“You have to take care of yourself,” he murmurs, laying on his stomach beside Harry and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Especially when I’m not here to force you to.”

“It makes me feel old,” Harry complains.

“Not as old as Letterman,” Louis points out with a grin as the show returns from an ad break. “You look about twelve next to him.”

Harry’s interview has started and Louis presses in close to him, lined up all along their sides. The interview goes well; Harry is as charming and gorgeous as ever as he and David discuss the new album, the tour, and Harry’s work with several LGBTI charities. Louis finds his attention sharpening when David steers the interview toward Harry’s personal life.

“Now, tell us about the family, how are they?”

Onscreen, Harry’s smile grows considerably. “They’re wonderful, thank you. They’re actually here in New York, this week, it’s been really great to see them all.”

“And you do have quite a brood, is that correct? How many kids do you have, twelve?”

Harry laughs. “Fourteen,” he deadpans, then shakes his head. “It’s only five, actually.”

“Oh, _only_ ,” David mocks. “I can’t imagine how you can even keep up with them all.”

“Well we have whistles and they each come when they hear their call…” Harry starts, and laughs again. “No, they’re great. We always planned for a big family, and the older ones help take care of the little ones, it’s very sweet.”

“And I believe that most of these -” David indicates the tattoos that cover Harry’s arms. “Are for your kids?”

“And my husband,” Harry agrees with a dimpled smile. His thumb rubs absently against the _always_ inked into the inside of his right arm, between ‘Things I Can’ and the celtic-style wristband he’d had done back in 2017. Louis smiles and glances down to his left arm, where _yours_ sits an inch above his playing-card wristband.

“You’ve been together for a long time, haven’t you?”

“It’s actually twenty years next month.” Harry says with a nod, and looks pleased when David whistles.

“Jesus christ, you’re not even forty yet, are you?”

“I’m thirty-six.”

“Celebrating a twenty year anniversary with five kids. You’re a bit ahead of the game, aren’t you?”

Harry spreads his fingers, smirking. “What can I say, I’m an overachiever.”

“Well, I think it’s very impressive. Congratulations to yourself and your husband. Now, the album’s out…”

Louis mutes the television and turns on his side to face Harry. “You hear that? It’s impressive that I’ve stuck with you for twenty years.”

Harry raises and eyebrow. “Impressive that I’ve stuck with _you_ , smelly feet.”

“Oh please, like you weren’t immune to that smell within months of meeting me. No, I’m the one who has to put up with your long...slow...stories...that...go...nowhere.”

“And I have to put up with your deplorable cooking skills.”

“Your inability to say no to the kids.”

“Your inability to hang a wet towel on the rack!”

“Your stupid hair-swoop move.”

“Hey, you _love_ my hair swoop,” Harry laughs, rolling onto his side and pillowing his cheek on his hand. “And you love my dumb stories and you love how I am with the kids.”

His lips look soft and there’s curls falling into his eyes and yeah, okay. Louis maybe loves him a little bit.

“Hate you,” he grumbles, fighting the fond look that always tries to take over his face when he looks at Harry. He’s never been able to control the damn thing.

Harry rolls closer to him and wraps his big monkey limbs all around Louis, holding him tightly and nuzzling against his neck. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs. “Guess that’s why you married me and had kids with me and stuck with me for twenty years.”

“I lived through a phase where you wore nothing but fedoras and flannel, Hazza. I have suffered.”

“That was a good look,” Harry protests mildly. He starts kissing up and down Louis’ neck and his hand slips under his shirt. “C’mon, admit you love me.”

“Little bit,” Louis finally says, mostly because he’s getting really distracted by the lovebite that Harry is sucking into the base of his throat.

Harry hums. “Good enough.”

 

 

They watch Harry’s concert from a special VIP area on their last night in New York. Louis hasn’t seen Harry perform in months - since his last tour, actually, and he hasn’t seen many of the new songs live. They sound fantastic - honest and beautiful, the way all Harry’s songs sound. It’s always such a joy to watch Harry perform. His presence on stage is electric, his natural charisma drawing the crowd in effortlessly. He’s always been so genuine, so eager to interact with every single person in the crowd, to make them all feel like he sees them, like he has a connection with them. Louis’ never been able to do that, and he’s always admired Harry’s ability to please his fans.

Harry looks over at them constantly, making faces or smiling. The kids are delighted, especially the twins who have never seen him perform. Leah and Rosie don’t really understand what’s going on, but they seem pretty happy about seeing their papa onstage all the same. They squeal and wave excitedly every time he looks over at them, and they love the special earmuffs they’ve been given for the night.

He’s onto encores now, gliding easily through a couple of acoustic versions of fan favourites. Nobody seems ready for the show to end, Louis included. He thinks he could happily spend the rest of his life watching Harry up on that stage, guitar molded to his body like he was born with it. In his black skinny jeans, short-sleeved shirt showing off his tattoos, with silver jewellery glinting at his throat and wrists, Harry looks every inch a rockstar.

“So, uh,” Harry says into the mic, pushing his hand through his curls and then coughing into his fist. “Tonight was a bit of a special night for me, because my family was able to come out and see the show.” He grins at the storm of cheering that goes up in response to his words. “So I want to say hello to my beautiful kids Daniel, Evie, Jamie, Leah and Rosie. I love you guys so much.” He blows a kiss in their direction and Louis watches as the kids light up in response to their father’s words.

“I wanted, especially,” Harry continues. “To do something for my husband, Lou,” he pauses now, looking directly into the crowd and meeting Louis’ eyes. Louis has Rosie tucked under one arm, rocking her gently back and forth as he watches Harry talk. _I love you,_ he mouths, and nods for Harry to continue.

“We’re celebrating our twentieth anniversary soon and I can’t even explain how lucky I feel to be saying that. So I’m pulling out kind of an old song, something I wrote for Louis a long time ago. I still mean every word.”

With one more soft smile in Louis’ direction, Harry looks down and plays the first notes on his guitar.

And _oh_. Louis’ heart clenches and he realises that he knew what [this song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E_T42aVINgw) was before Harry even started playing it. The chords hit him right in the chest, make his throat tighten. It flashes him all the way back to 2015, to their wedding. Mid-reception, Harry had suddenly vanished from Louis’ side and reappeared back on the stage with a guitar in his hands. He’d opened his mouth, and out came - this.

_Find me here,_  
 _And speak to me._  
 _I want to feel you,_  
 _I need to hear you._  
 _You are the light,_  
 _That's leading me,_  
 _To the place,_  
 _Where I find peace again._

And _god_ Harry’s voice, rough and deep and beautiful, telling him what Louis meant to him in such beautiful words. It had overwhelmed him then and it overwhelms him now. Louis can barely breathe with it. He has to pass Rosie to Jasmin before he drops her, and he steps forward from his seat in an effort to be as close to Harry as physically possible.

_You are the strength,_  
 _That keeps me walking._  
 _You are the hope,_  
 _That keeps me trusting._  
 _You are the light,_  
 _To my soul._  
 _You are my purpose,_  
 _You're everything._

Harry’s eyes are locked on him, intense and bare with emotion as he plays. Louis feels every word like it’s been tattooed onto his bones, like Harry’s voice is reaching right inside him to touch his heart, his soul. He wants to close his eyes against it but he can’t look away from Harry.

The song builds slowly, hypnotically. Louis can’t even hear the crowd at this point. There’s an unnatural hush over the place as Harry plays. It’s magical, and beautiful, and one of the most profound things Louis has ever experienced.

Then, finally, the song reaches its climax and Harry seems to burst, voice riding smoothly over guitar and drums.

_Cause you're all I want,_  
 _You're all I need,_  
 _You're everything, everything._

Louis feels his heart soar with it, and his stomach is swooping with butterflies, his fingers are tingling. He’s so, so, so in love with this man.

As Harry plays out the final chords, he finally breaks eye contact with Louis and turns his attention back to the crowd, nodding his thanks.

And the smart thing would be for Louis to wait for him backstage. The smart thing would be for Louis to get the kids hustled back to the hotel, sedately walk to Harry’s dressing room and thank him there.

Louis never really was very smart.

Harry is taking his guitar off and turning away from the crowd to take a sip of water, and Louis just - _runs_. Out of the VIP area, past the security, up the stairs. The stage lights bathe him in brightness but Louis pays them no mind. Harry is turning back towards the mic, lit up long and lean and beautiful, and his eyes focus on Louis about five seconds before Louis launches himself at him.

Harry stumbles, but he’s had years of practice catching Louis in these running hugs and he steadies himself quickly. His arms wrap tightly around Louis’ waist while Louis’ thighs lock around his hips, and Louis kisses him like his life depends on it.

It’s a good kiss, a great kiss, a fucking spectacular kiss. It’s Harry’s mouth warm and soft and beloved, it’s Harry’s big hands holding Louis tightly, it’s Harry’s curls between Louis’ fingers and Harry’s body locked into Louis’. It’s kind of kiss you dream of, the kind of kiss people write sonnets about. Louis would write poetry about this kiss, if he knew how.

When they finally break apart, Louis registers the screams of the crowd behind them, but it’s a dull roar compared to the brightness of Harry’s eyes as they look at him. Louis cups his cheeks in his hands, thumbs smoothing over Harry’s dimples. For a second he flashes back to the very beginning; the moment he jumped into Harry’s arms onstage at X Factor twenty years ago. They’ve come so very, very far and yet Louis’ still where he’s always belonged: with the boy he loves.

 

He kisses him again, again, kisses the smile off Harry’s soft lips and presses his love into him as deep as it will go. “Love you,” he murmurs into Harry’s skin, and it sounds inadequate; such tiny dull words for such a huge, all-encompassing feeling. “Love you, love you, I’ve loved you every second for twenty years, fuck.”

It’s not the most eloquent declaration, no. But Harry’s grip tightens on Louis’ waist and he cranes to kiss him again. “Every second,” he agrees softly. “And for the next twenty, and the next, and the next…”

Louis leans back to grin at him. “You have high expectations for our mortality, darling.”

Unfazed, Harry nuzzles his nose against Louis’. “I guess we’ll just have to run over into our next lives.”

And yeah, Louis thinks as he leans into yet another kiss. He’s not opposed to a couple of lifetimes of loving Harry.

_  
_

_If yet I have not all thy love,_  
 _Dear, I shall never have it all ;_  
 _I cannot breathe one other sigh, to move,_  
 _Nor can intreat one other tear to fall ;_  
 _And all my treasure, which should purchase thee,_  
 _Sighs, tears, and oaths, and letters I have spent ;_  
 _Yet no more can be due to me,_  
 _Than at the bargain made was meant._  
 _If then thy gift of love were partial,_  
 _That some to me, some should to others fall,_  
 _Dear, I shall never have thee all._

_Or if then thou gavest me all,_  
 _All was but all, which thou hadst then ;_  
 _But if in thy heart since there be or shall_  
 _New love created be by other men,_  
 _Which have their stocks entire, and can in tears,_  
 _In sighs, in oaths, and letters, outbid me,_  
 _This new love may beget new fears,_  
 _For this love was not vow'd by thee._  
 _And yet it was, thy gift being general ;_  
 _The ground, thy heart, is mine ; what ever shall_  
 _Grow there, dear, I should have it all._

_Yet I would not have all yet._  
 _He that hath all can have no more ;_  
 _And since my love doth every day admit_  
 _New growth, thou shouldst have new rewards in store ;_  
 _Thou canst not every day give me thy heart,_  
 _If thou canst give it, then thou never gavest it ;_  
 _Love's riddles are, that though thy heart depart,_  
 _It stays at home, and thou with losing savest it ;_  
 _But we will have a way more liberal,_  
 _Than changing hearts, to join them ; so we shall_  
 _Be one, and one another's all._  
\- John Donne: Lovers' Infiniteness


End file.
